Loss and Revenge
by Mepistopilies
Summary: Vincent is a ex mercenary and farmer who has fallen in love with a african american girl from Haiti who has recently lost her husband. A Brutal bounty hunter shows up, certain that the girl is a witch, and tries to kill her.  Set in 1880's North America.


"Hey! Its time! The men are waiting and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to keep them as such ".

The messenger, a man by the name of Lawrence, turned back the way he came and headed toward the center of town.

Center of town. RIGHT, thought Vincent sarcastically as he made his way outside.

The town was barely that, just a few isolated farms in the middle of nowhere.

The night was slightly chilly and it was raining again. Vincent zipped up his coat and made his way towards the cluster of homes, the official 'center' of town.

As he arrived he saw the group of seven other farmers standing in a circle, talking silently to each other. They greeted him with nods and slight grunts. They seemed on edge, but that was to be expected considering that they were woken at this hour of the morning to meet in the rain to discuss who knows what.

A man appeared from the gloom and rain, slightly heavier and well built, a long black beard hanging down his chin, his face was etched with frown lines and he had a cold and heartless gaze.

Vincent and the other men recognized this man instantly.

He was a pretty famous 'property' collector or "executor", or as Vincent put it, an inhuman monster that brought back black slaves to their masters or simply executed them.

His name was Desmond Cartwright

Vincent could only guess at what reason brought Cartwright to this insignificant little farming community, although he could most likely guess that it was of an unpleasant nature. A man like Cartwright didn't inspire harmony and peace amongst people.

Cartwright eyed the men, his eyes cold and calculating, estimating the men who stood before him.

"You have been called here tonight to put an end to the wicked ways of one devil-loving colored whore".

The crowd stirred.

Colored whore? thought Vincent, what nonsense. What, who could Cartwright be talking about? There were only two families of colored folk who lived anywhere near here, The Mantels and one Hannah Rowler.

Vincent smiled as he thought of Hannah, his mind flashing an image of her beautiful hazel eyes, dazzling smile and soft and sensual chocolate-colored skin. Currently, no-one knew of her and his close, intimate relationship. It would be that way for quite a while, most of the people in this area still held on to racist beliefs and couldn't fathom a white man courting a black woman.

Vincent would keep the secret to protect Hannah; his sweet, his joy, his love.

Cartwright couldn't possibly mean her could he?

Cartwright paused, continuing to eye the group of men. His pause seemed to be for dramatic effect, although Vincent was sure that was the real reason for the pause.

"This here community has been plagued by the sick and vile machinations of one Haiti witch; a colored woman by the name of Rowler."

Vincent's blood ran cold, his mouth went dry and his right hand clenched into a fist. His breathing increased as did his heart rate.

"We must act while we still have time, we must find her and put an end to her."

Vincent gasped silently to himself, no one noticed. His mind was a flurry of thoughts and emotions. They are going to harm my girl and they think she's a witch! thought Vincent.

He had to get to her, had to have her safe in his arms. He had to get her away from these men and their intentions! He had to…

His thoughts were interrupted by Cartwright cracking his knuckles as he prepared for what was to come.

You better not lay a single hand on her or I swear I'll kill you myself, thought Vincent.

Vincent couldn't leave these men without making it seem suspicious, although he might come up with a reason.

"Sir, I'm not sure that nine people against a Haiti witch is enough..., I mean…I've heard things", stated Vincent.

Cartwright eyed him, nodded slightly, "I agree with you on that, okay, go back to your houses and grab whatever weapons you can."

Vincent sighed in slight relief, which would give him the time he needed to hopefully get over to Hannah's farm and warn her.

Most of the men had rushed back to their houses at this point; Vincent turned and ran towards the direction of Hannah's.

His heart was pounding in his ears, not because of the running but because of the imminent danger posed to his sweet.

Vincent ran through the mud and grime, and he could see the old cobblestone wall that he and Hannah had built together. They had sat there many times as friends and, as they grew closer, later as lovers, embracing each other with such passion that it gave him the chills and made him smile.

He couldn't help but remember the two of them were sitting there.

Hannah was sitting on the edge of the wall, her legs hanging over the sides as she stared towards the distant fields and pastures.

She smiled as she felt Vincent move up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. "I've missed you" he whispered.

She molded her body more comfortably against his, laying her head on his shoulder.

"I can tell" she said playfully.

Vincent moved one hand up to her cheek and stroked his thumb across her smooth skin, twirling a strand of her hair as he did so.

Hannah ran a hand down his arm, feeling the strong muscles beneath. She turned her cheek and their lips touched, softly and sweetly at first then with increased enthusiasm.

Her heart rate increased as she enjoyed the softness of his lips.

With a sigh they broke the kiss.

He leaned his head on her shoulder and hugged her tightly,

"I love you Hannah." He said, running his lips across her cheek.

She turns to face him, a smile on her face, her eyes wide and sparkling with joy,

"I love you too Vincent"

Vincent jerked his mind away from the memory. It was sweet and relaxing all at the same time but that was something that he couldn't afford to do at the moment.

He quickly ran up to the house, knocked on the door.

No response.

Not necessarily a bad sign, He thought, she might still be in bed.

Jiggling the handle he found the door unlocked. This didn't worry him as Hannah routinely left her door unlocked for him should he want to spend the night with her.

Stepping into the darkened interior he called out,

"Hannah?"

No answer.

He moved through the small house, moving towards her bedroom.

Opening the door he looks towards the bed, rumpled sheets.

Moving over to it he places his hand on the bed, still warm. Good that means she was here recently.

A slight noise in the closet makes Vincent jump.

Heart racing, he whips open the sliding door.

A dark figure tackles him, causing him to fall backwards, he grasps his assailant and takes them down with him.

"Let go of me you Bastard!"

Vincent recognizes that sensual yet strong voice, a woman's voice.

"Hannah? its me, Vincent".

"Vincent? Oh thank God!" He Felt her crawl up onto him, then felt her warm lips against his.

Kissing her back he felt relieved to have found her. But the danger the other men and Cartright posed was still present.

Breaking the kiss he got to his feet, then helped her up.

"Hannah, we have to go NOW. There's no time to explain."

Hannah, still just very pleased to see her lover asks coyly, "whats wrong? you going to take me somewhere?" She smiles.

"No, men are coming to kill you...they think you're a witch"

Hannah's features narrow, a worried look in her eye.

"A witch? Oh my god...what are we going to do? maybe we could convince them, show them I'm not"

Shaking his head he says, "That won't work they won't listen to reason, they..." The noise of men chatting and laughing draws his attention away from Hannah and out the small window, he sees movement in the gloom.

"We have to leave now!" Grabbing her he tugs her to the front of the door.

A loud banging noise echoes from the front door causing both Hannah and Vincent to stop in their tracks.

"Witch...witch..." teases a voice from the other side of the door, full of menace.

The fact that these men would be this open about showing up at the house and taunting Hannah could only mean one thing; they still believed that she was alone and vulnerable.

Moving against the wall next to the door, Vincent whispers to Hannah.

"I need you to go and hide, there are a lot of them and I don't think that they will listen to reason. Go and whatever happens do not come out."

Hannah's eyes widen slightly, she opens her mouth to speak.

SLAM! The noise came from the front door, obviously someone was trying to break their way inside. The Noise came again, SLAM!.

"We don't have time, go and hide." Vincent said sternly.

Nodding, Hannah ran back to her room, closing the door behind her.

Sighing, Vincent hears the crash again, and then voices.

"Come on Bitch! open this goddamn door, maybe we could have some fun before we gut you"

The sounds of laughter followed, making Vincent's blood boil.

The Door shook again as they applied more force on the door, causing the door's hinges to buckle and give, the heavy door tilted in and then stopped.

One more good hit like that and they'd be inside, Vincent prepared himself, looking around frantically for anything he could use. Then suddenly he saw it.

A solid wood and steel handle, broken off at where the handle would have connected to the shovel scoop. Grabbing it he heard the men rush from outside again and slam into the door, sending the remaining hinges flying and toppling the heavy door.

One man rushed in, his eyes not adjusted to the gloom. Vincent swung the handle and was rewarded with a solid WHACK as the handle connected with the man's lower ribs and stomach.

The man lurched forward, doubling over as Vincent swung the handle like a golf club, connecting with the mans face and breaking his nose which sent a spray of blood outward. The man flew backwards a few feet and landed with a hard THUD.

Seconds later there was sounds of shouting.

Vincent pushed his way past the unconscious man on the floor and stepped into the pouring rain.

Three men yelled at him as they ran up to him.

Using the handle as a club he swung and caught the farmer in the leg, bellow the knee, the farmer buckled over as his knee gave out.

Vincent then turned and gave a quick back kick to the man's jaw, which sent him into the mud.

Turning, Vincent got a solid punch to the face, which off balanced him, causing him to stumble and fall onto his hands and one knee.

A hard kick racked through Vincent's side, causing him to grunt in pain.

Turning to face his attacker, he grabbed the man's leg before it connected with his shoulder.

Twisting his attackers leg, he caused the man to stumble and fall, a wet snapping sound is heard as Vincent breaks the man's ankle.

A hard punch racks through Vincent's head, and his Vision Fades away into blackness.

"Boy!"

Vincent stirred suddenly.

Cartwright smashes his boot down hard on Vincent's stomach.

Vincent snaps his eyes open, sharp pain filling his insides, he looks around as his blurry vision focuses.

"You've been a disobedient little shit. Helping her, helping a fucking Haiti witch. What is the matter with you boy?" Cartwright accused angrily.

Vincent tries to move, but notices that he is tied up to a post inside Hannah's house.

Hannah! Vincent thinks.

His heart races for fear of what they might have done to her while he was unconscious.

"Where is she?" he asks in a threatening tone.

Cartwright turns to him, staring at him with slight disgust.

"She is right here." he signals to one of his men, who opens the front door.

Outside, in the storm, Hannah could be seen.

She was tied to a similar post like Vincent himself, however her arms were spread outward, tied up to support beams. Her clothes were wet, she looked lifeless.

"Hannah!" Vincent yelled to her.

Either she ignored him or didn't hear him over the pelting rain because she didn't move.

"You fuckin bastard, what did you do to her?" Vincent asked Cartwright in a rage.

His question was answered with a knee to Vincents most sensitive area.

Vincent gave a loud moan of pain, his vision blotting.

"You DO NOT get to ask questions of me boy," Cartwright declared, "Besides, we haven't done anything to her yet, maybe gave her a bit of a beating when fought back but nothing major, we'll get to that soon."

Struggling over the pain, breathing heavily, Vincent managed to look Cartwright in the eyes.

"Touch her and you're dead."

The Laugh of the men and Cartwright reverberated around the room.

"Boy, there will be nothing left of her and you, so don't waste your breath."

With that he turned around and walked out into the rain, the men followed.

Vincent eyed them with panic, WHAT WERE THEY GOING TO DO?

Watching them as they circled around Hannah, Vincent tried to loosen his binding, they gave slightly but not enough to make an escape. Panic and fear and hate all welled up inside him.

"Is there anything you'd like to have said before we put an end to your miserable existence Missy?" Cartwright asked Hannah.

She looked up, tears streaming her eyes, but even so her eyes hardened when she looked at him.

"Go Fuck yourself."

Cartwright reacted as if she slapped him, turning to pick up a large stone block, Cartwright hurled it at her.

The Stone hit her in the ribs, causing her to yell out in pain.

From his position Vincent screamed out her name.

Hearing this Cartwright gave Vincent a look then a grin of satisfaction, as if drawing strength from Vincent's suffering.

The men at Cartwright's side all picked up stones, Vincent screamed out Hannah's name again, his voice full of misery and pain as Hannah and him locked eyes for a second.

In that second revealed a lifetime of emotion, pain, sorrow, loss. To numerous and too deep to ever fully put into context.

Then the delicate balance between hundreds of milliseconds was shattered as a second stone brutally slammed across her forehead.

A hail of stones rained down on her, breaking numerous bones, eventually Hannah lay still.

Vincent held his head low, tears streaming down his face, his voice now coming out as a whisper from all the yelling, the pleading to spare her life, to stop. Repeating three words over and over.

"I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you. I'll kill you."

Looking up as Cartwright approached him.

"Now its your turn, however this can be rather quick." He smiled.

Vincent looked into his face, then spat in it.

"You son of a bitch, I swear I'll kill you for what you've done."

Wiping his face, Cartwright pulled out a blade, as long as a forearm and drove it deep into Vincent's chest.

Vincent registered no pain as his vision closed in and his head slumped down.

Cartwright then spat in Vincent's face, turned and walked off into the night.

What Cartwright didn't realize was that the man that he had supposedly killed wasn't exactly dead, but close to it, and had inadvertently became released of his bindings as the blade punctured through his chest cavity, out his back and right through the rope.

Several hours later, Vincent found the strength to open his eyes slightly. He had slipped in and out of consciousness before this moment and now slumped even further as his ropes were loosened by the cut.

Falling to his hands and knees Vincent ran three fingers around the hilt of the blade.

He knew he had to get this out of him, for he would surely bleed to death or even worse, his wound became infected and he die an even slower death.

Gripping the hilt with one hand he moved the blade slightly, Vincent cried out as waves of pain flowed outward from his whole center. This was going to hurt like HELL he thought.

Grabbing the blade with both hands Vincent pulled, the pain so intense, so severe that he nearly passed out but fought back to consciousness. The blade moving slowly through his chest cavity.

Until finally the blade was free of him, Vincent collapsed, blood flowing freely from his wounds.

Struggling, Vincent crawled, found a length of bed sheet and plugged his chest wound with it.

He coughed, blood specks covered the ground.

Wiping his mouth, Vincent tried standing on wobbly legs.

He barely made it two feet, stumbling and grasping the wall.

He had to make it outside, had to find Hannah, had to make things better, had to comfort her like a lover should.

Making his way to the door frame, he checked outside, the rain was still falling, but not fat angry drops anymore, now it was small sad ones.

He made his way outside, clutching his chest and taking small steps to maintain his balance.

He approached the post, Hannah hung limply on it, like a rag doll.

Her face was etched with cuts and bruises, and yet her could still see her natural beauty.

He began to cry.

"...d-don't cry...baby...don't" came Hannah's weak almost inaudible voice.

He leaned in, kissing her cheek, tears still streaming down his face.

"I should have...if I would have just gotten here so-"

She cut him off.

"No, no...babe, you did, the best that you could...I love you terribly"

He buried his head in her neck, then seeing that she was still tied up he undid her binds, he gently laid her onto his lap. he wiped the tears away again.

"I love you so much. I can't bear living without you." She said, "We'll...be together...again..." her voice grew fainter...and darkness embraced her.

Vincent, looked down at the body of the woman who he loved. The woman who taught him to be a better person, a person whom he did not see any racial difference and only saw the person within.

He vowed to her that as long as he lived he would hunt the men responsible for taking her innocent life.

He would have his revenge.


End file.
